


Way chaos works

by GodOfWar



Series: Loki bits [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Chaos, Character Development ...if you can say that, I Tried, I don't even know if it's gore, I'm Bad At Tagging, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Oblivious Thor, Warning: Loki, bit of destruction, enough said, gore?, incest? is that incest ? could be, too much tv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodOfWar/pseuds/GodOfWar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki have a bad day. Or a good one. Leveling city to the ground is fun, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Way chaos works

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, and I don't have bata, so sorry for any mistakes.  
> Enjoy :D

He watched as the chaos unfolded before him, spinning around like a living creature. Encircling him with its wide arms of uncontrolled marvelous power. Magnificent. Truly magnificent. It was pure mix of mayhem and madness and all that lies in between.  


Glass was scattered everywhere, glittering blood red from the fires raging around, which were devouring what was left of this bruised, rapidly dying city. Sky was dark from the fumes, its clouds hanging low and thick, destroying all sun efforts to shine upon this pitiful land, to bring hope in the hearts of people that still held to their lives. Fast flying sparrows and fat pigeons falling around and splatting with sickening sound of meat and bones meeting the ground. The heat was overwhelming. Melting asphalt swallowing whole bits of cars shredded to ribbons by the force of explosions and strength of creatures demolishing everything on sight, because that was the only purpose they were made for. Limbs lie scattered randomly, like on the painting made by madmen sprinkled richly in scarlet droplets.  


New York burned at will of one Loki Laufeyson. And there was no one to take his victory away in this fragile mortal world.  
Midgard, he spat with an angry snarl twisting his handsome features into scary mask which would bring nightmares if anyone was to see him now. Resentment clear in his harsh voice. There was no love lost between him and earthlings, Norns forbid. He let his gaze fall down for one moment to see fruits of his own hard work, sitting cross-legged in full Asgardian armor, high in the center of the darkest of clouds.  
It was not good day for humanity.  


Sirens howling in whole city, some in vain hopes of rescuing those that in mere minutes will be invited to his daughter's beloved pet standing guard in the gate of Hel domain. Forever watchful, forever waiting.  
Pleading and fearful screams of people trapped, teared apart or simply scared of the world falling on their heads in this very moment. Like the people of old, kneeling and praying for gods to save their unworthy lives. But not this day, not when one of the Gods was instrument of this destruction. Communicates broadcasts on the radio were the loudest. Strong, firm man's voice commanding to not panic, to search for a safe place and wait, assuring civilians that rescue was coming. That simple lie put self - satisfied smirk on Loki's face. The sounds of explosions, buildings falling apart like a house of cards, and those beautiful, beautiful screams were the most satisfying sounds in the ears of the God of Chaos. He looked west at the only ray of light in this wretched place. Portal, glowing with ice-blue inhuman light was still working, humming with power, its strength making his body all but trembling with excitement of what was yet to come. It wasn't his plan, but it appear to work all the same.  
He watched as a young man, barely in his mid-twenties, ran as fast as his weak human body could carry him, only to trip over his own feet when his eyes meet a sight of a women impaled on a street lamp, her gray business suit drenched in blood, long blond hair wet and tangled, plastered to her cracked skull, but they didn't cover the white shards of bone and pink mass that was once a brain, and then he fell in the hole in the ground, made by a minor earthquake. Pathetic.  


Pitiful souls, vermin from which world should have been cleared so long time ago. Now, the constant and spreading cancer of the weakening Yggdrasil tree - humanity - will be purged in the fire and destruction and by the hand of one scorned son. Humans were of no use, their times long passed, this age was a time of rabid dogs who no longer obeyed their masters. And nobody have mercy on rabid dogs. Those who will last, he would bring to their knees, at their rightful place, where they did belong. After all, their only purpose was to serve, to be splattered with mud, groveling at the feet of their betters, begging for mercy that will not come. Not now nor ever. He was not know for being merciful. To much freedom suited them ill, and now, he was their cure. Loki smiled, fairly pleased by the outcome of this battle, but wondering how long it would last. Fate has it for him, after all. He didn't let the hope swell in his heart and the smile slipped off his face. His scepter glowed brightly, capturing his attention, making his resolve stronger. He could not afford himself to loose, not this time. Thor..., no, don't go there, he told himself firmly. Water under the bridge. Sentiments are for fools and children, and he was called many things, but fool was not among them.  
... 

Loki woke up with a start. His breathing irregular, eyes wide, filled with to many things at once to even try to comprehend the depth of his raging emotions. Thor, now resting on his elbows, looked with his baby blue concerned eyes at a man sitting stiffly on the enormous bad with green velvety sheets covering their modesty (or whatever was left of it). Loki blinked, took a quick look around and then rested his gaze on the man lying beside him. He frowned , like he was trying to figure something out and then shook his head, smiling lightly. If someone was to pay attention, they would see how Thor's arms sagged with relief and tight lines around his face now relaxed.  
\- I had the strangest of dreams. - His keen eyes watching Thor's muscles tensing - But it is of no importance.  
Loki lowered himself and lay on his side with one hand entwined in his raven hair and another on Thor's back, painting a picture only he could see with that long elegant fingers of his. Cold fingertips gently grazing golden skin and sending very mixed and highly pleasurable signals to the two wholly different organs. Sadly, brain was loosing this battle.  
\- You are in possession of something that hold my interest.  
\- And what it would be, brother?  
Thor's voice sounded both rough from performance of Loki's skilled fingers and weary. Even thousands of years couldn't teach a person how to deal with someone as unpredictable as the God of Chaos. Wicked smile graced Loki's lips and with surprising strength he rolled Thor on his back, throwing him from the bed in process. God of Thunder landed with great THUD, even if cushioned somehow with skin of a wild bear lying on the wooden, highly polished floor. He didn't have time to react when Loki was on him, straddling his hips and the big predatory smile was stretched wide on his lips, eyes glinting with mischief. Thor recognized that look all too well. His hand raised and cupped his brothers neck , and stroked his cheek with thumb, with the smile of his own plastered to his face.  
-You did learn something, after all. - Said Loki and dived for Thor's lips, capturing them in a baiting kiss, hand holding him close.  
...  
Thor raised from bed. It was hard, leaving napping Loki, with those taunting, long legs still visible, on his stomach, with two perfectly round globes barely hidden by green cover and one arm stretched high above his head. The last thing he has on his mind was leaving all that perfect white skin and lips made for causing both pleasure and pain. He sighed heavily, dressed himself and as silently as he could, closed doors behind him.  
Gut wrenching guilt hit him the moment he left, spreading its venom and nearly making him fall to his knees, crawl to Loki's bed and spill every single secret just to get ride of this horrible feeling. He resisted. Barely.  
He never thought that at some point of life he'd have to do things like that, things, that made him angry, swimming in guilt and so immensely sad at the same time, that he felt like all sentient beings should weep. He never thought that he would hate himself so much. And for what? For a heartbroken Liar caught by a web of lies not his own, false promises of another madman dreams mingled with reality so enormous and terrifying that he would rather sacrifice his own brilliant mind then let himself be used and twisted to the point of no return? No! No. Loki was worth it, Loki was worth all the pain, all the guilt, and everything Thor was doing, he was doing for the sake of his brother's slipping sanity. For what was still left of that soul, previously so full of life, curious, always curious, with keen eyes observing everything like a cat placed in new place, and now caged in that too small room, two weeks of mindblowing sex and hope that one day Loki would start to ask questions, that he wold stand up and try open the door or will follow Thor for once. That he will return to the point he started with, not the half crazy, insecure and cold person he was turned into both by the Casket, Thanos, Tesseract, the All-Father indifference and simple knowledge that he was not person he thought himself to be, but in the strong man, who knew how to distinguish friend from foe, and whose presence was like a shield protecting Thor and his friends from failing to stay alive, when their emotions, pride and battlerage was taking the better of them. He was needed. Maybe not many would admit it, but Loki Odinson was still needed in Asgard, badly. But not in this state, not when his spirit bleed away from him the moment scepter was crushed by Hulk, not when fifteen days ago he was left in the shivering mess, wailing and screaming, with his head hidden in his arms, when they found him, thinking themselves victorious. Blood spilled around, and a marks made in the debris, like he was trying to dig a hole with his bare hands, armor cut in the middle and long jagged half healed scar, and bloodied dagger lying near, handprints on his neck, like he was trying to strangle himself, all telling scars on wrists and on the neck, another dagger impaled in flat muscles of his stomach. And red, red everywhere, with something heavy, oily, clinging to the skin, leaving every one of them feeling dirty, like the evil itself touched their souls, hanging in the air. And then it passed, leaving Loki screaming so loud that they all covered their ears and Hulk run off and was found only two days later, still in his all green glory, miles and miles away from New York. Banner was himself four days after the battle. Whatever had the power to scare Hulk, had resided in Loki for quite some time, and left him like a crushed shell of his true self.  
They were useless, really. Even more so when after Loki regained his consciousness and forgot everything five minutes after he was told something. But his eyes, his brilliant eyes, were green once again. And that gave Thor hope, that his brother will recover. Hope. Nothing more was needed.  
He let his fevered head lie upon cold metal wall of the Hellicarrier. Lying to Loki was the hardest thing he had ever done, and that count for something when you have over two thousand years. But lie he must, because Loki's mind was still to fragile to tinker with. The last thing he remembered was the fact that they still were an item, so the item they were. Thor wondered idly, why they ever stopped, when every bit of the once found passion was still there, sparkling as bright as always. He shook his head and started walking, passing three lines of security, armed to their teeth guards and technology he didn't have the mind to remember the names of. Every time it took seventeen minutes to get to Loki's room, and only three people had a clearance to do so. They still didn't trust him, Thor could understand that, even if it made him sad. He made himself more presentable and took off. He had some things to do.  
Loki opened his eye and glad that he was once again left alone, he slipped of the bed, stretching his long slim body, barely noticing any pain his earlier activities might have left. He made two steps, took a bowl of fruits and a book left abandoned for few hours and leaned pillows on the headboard of the bed. Making himself comfortable he covered his face with book of insanely complicated runes and smirked. Camera hidden in one of many precious and delicate things didn't register it. Nor the single green spark trailing on Loki's finger and disappearing into thin air. Magic suppressant didn't work anymore.  
...  
In the dim light of a lone candle mischievous eyes glinted merrily. They were good, those Midgardians, but no one fools the God of Lies. The room was perfect, everything exactly as it should be, it even carried the same atmosphere of his old Asgard room. By the Norns, even runes in the corners were exactly the same. But that one little detail ruined their ploy. He looked at the single window covered by a thick curtain of emerald green, knowing that when the down would fall upon Earth a single ray of light would leave a dusty gold patch bathing a wooden table and three of his books with its gentle glow. A shame, really, that all this effort in perfectly crafted illusion was wasted by something so minor, because of the simple fact that his old rooms window faced west.  
Dark amusement crept upon him, as he once again considered his options, which, as things stood, weren't very many. What he has was time, and plenty of it, to heal, to plan, to gather his assets.  
He was shaken off his musing when a strong, muscled arm wrapped itself around his middle cradling him closer to the warm body. He let it be, and only sighed lightly when rush of warmth spread in his belly, leaving him smiling ridiculously in the darkness. He scoffed at himself and then proceed to thoroughly curse Thor's involvement. He looked at the person holding him, as if that simple gesture would manage to prevent him from leaving. Thor looked nearly exactly like in the moment Loki let go of Gungnir, the same wild blond hair, the same strong jaw and long, wide nose. But his face... Sadness crept upon his forever joyous features and held tightly to them, twisting so familiar face in the new image. It didn't suit him. A strange sense of guilt passed through Loki's body clawing at his already crashed and burned heart. He resisted the urge to growl out laud, was he really as pathetic as the whole human race to hold upon his feelings like a drowning man with the last bit of hope holds onto a piece of board? He gritted his teeth. Took one deep breath. Relaxed. Quick like a snake, a smirk flashed on his narrow lips.  
No matter, he would...endure, like always. As it is an obligation to be here, with Thor ready to come to him at his whim. He would stay. He, avatar of the chaos itself, in this tiny, cozy room, till his goals would be achieved, till plans will be ready to spin into motions. He will behave, even. For now.


End file.
